


5 times Draco Malfoy comforts Harry through a nightmare (and one time when the roles are reversed)

by VegOut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Comfort, Fluff, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VegOut/pseuds/VegOut
Summary: Harry thought that the nightmares had stopped. The summer after Voldemort’s death, Harry had slept without dreaming at all, and for that he was grateful. He guessed he had seen so much death in his waking hours that his brain was giving him a break in his slumbering hours. About one week into Harry’s “8th year,” at Hogwarts, his brain apparently decided that his break was over. Or, the fic in which Draco Malfoy has to comfort Harry Potter after his nightmares return.





	1. Chapter 1

     The first time it happened was before everyone had even settled into class schedules. To “foster inter-house unity,” all returning 8th year students had been roomed with a classmate from a different house. Headmistress McGonagall had paired Harry Potter with Draco Malfoy for reasons neither of the teenagers could see. Still, the two acted cordially around each other, not threatening to hex the other’s bollocks off, but avoiding any unnecessary interaction. Their days of avoiding each other always ended the same way though, sleeping less than ten feet from the other in a dormitory room several floors up a disused tower.

     The Friday night after the term started, the two had fallen into their by now usual routine of preparing for bed and wordlessly falling asleep. Except tonight, Draco hadn’t gone to sleep. He had pulled the curtains around his bed, cast a __lumos__  and started to read, some muggle fantasy book about a lamppost in the back of a wardrobe and talking lions. He heard Harry whimper, but tried to ignore it, thinking it was just some occasional noise the brute made in his sleep. The noise did not stop, but grew louder and more violent. He could hear the bed moving, and Harry began to shout.

     Draco quickly dog-eared his book and threw back the curtains, knowing that The Boy Who Lived Twice was having a nightmare, more than likely about the war. He padded over to Harry’s bed and stopped, unsure of how to remedy the situation. He turned, determined to walk out of the room and down the hall to wake the Weasel, when he felt a hand grip onto his thigh, effectively keeping him there. He tentatively sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on Harry’s back. The boy sobbed underneath his touch, and Draco noticed that Harry was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“No! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I promise Uncle Vernon!” Harry was still shouting, louder even than before. Draco started to rub his hand in circles along Harry’s back, and brought his other hand up to card through his black hair. Harry shifted so his head now rested in Draco’s lap, leaving his body at what couldn’t have been a comfortable angle. Draco startled, but didn’t move either of his hands. He leaned down closer to Harry and started murmuring to him.   
”It’s okay now. You’re safe. You’re not in any danger now. Everything’s over.”

     He kept repeating these phrases like a mantra, feeling accomplished when the boy beneath him started to quiet. After several minutes, the tremors had stopped and his breathing had evened out again. Draco stood to leave, to go back to his own bed, but once again, Harry’s hand caught his thigh.

“Draco?” He mumbled the word, clearly still half asleep. The blond stared at him, not used to hearing him use his given name.

“Yes, Potter?” Draco answered.

“Can you stay?” Harry had asked the question in an almost whisper, as if he didn’t want to spook Draco.

     He scooted over to the far side of the bed and threw back the covers, inviting in his once arch-rival. Draco complied wordlessly, climbing under the sheets and facing away from Harry. His body was tense, ready to jump up and run at any moment.

“Thank you Draco. If it helps, I won’t tell anyone.” Harry did whisper this time, his consciousness already fading out. His last conscious action was to scoot closer, nuzzling his head into the nape of Draco’s neck.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time it happened, Draco thought he was more prepared. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

     Harry woke to find himself on the far side of the bed rather than splayed out like he usually was. The room was empty, though a quick  _ tempus _ revealed it to only be half eight. He remembered having a nightmare, and figured he had run Draco off in the middle of the night. He supposed the story would be all over the school by lunch, the famous Harry Potter still cries in his sleep.

     Draco stood in the library, working up the courage to speak to none other than Hermione Granger. Truth be told, he was preparing himself for a punch to the face. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be at the end of Granger’s wrath. He stood straight and walked quickly to sit in front of her. She looked up, surprised, and more than a little cautious.

“What do you want?” Her voice was calm and calculating, though not cold.

“What do you know about nightmares? I’ve looked in wizarding books, and they’re all either divinatory rubbish or just refer you to Dreamless Sleep potion.”

     Granger didn’t ask why he wanted to know, and they spent the next few hours pouring over every muggle psychology book in the library.

     Nearly two weeks later, Harry’s nightmares returned again. He had gone to bed early, and Draco had stayed out late, studying for an upcoming Potions exam. When the latter returned, Harry was already in the throes of another nightmare. He was thrashing around, sheets kicked completely off the bed, but he didn’t appear to be breathing properly. Draco dropped his potions book on the floor and rushed over to the boy, hoping that upon closer inspection he would see a heaving, breathing chest. He had no such luck, and no knowledge of how to deal with this.

      Even in the largest muggle passage on nightmares he read, there was nothing about what to do if a person stopped breathing. Still, he tried to repeat the actions that had calmed him before. He laid a hand on his shoulder, since he was laying on his back, and started rubbing his thumb into a pressure point near the junction of his neck and shoulder. Potter still wasn’t breathing, and Draco was getting more and more worried. He knew at some point the boy would lose consciousness, but he had no idea whether he would start breathing again then or not. Draco moved to sit on the edge of the bed like last time, but Harry lurched away, fully throwing himself off the side of the bed. His head hit the hardwood floor first, and thankfully, he gasped upon impact. Draco immediately walked to the other side of the bed, calmed by the loud, ragged breaths now coming from his roommate. He knelt down to see green eyes staring back at him, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Malf-,” Draco shushed him.

“Don’t speak just yet, Potter. Focus on breathing first. It’s been at least a minute since you’ve had a proper one.” Harry listened, just sitting on the floor for several minutes while bringing his breathing back under control. Finally, he moved to stand up, but instantly regretting it when the world started to spin sideways.

“I’ve got you,” Draco said calmly as he reached an arm behind Harry’s back as he started falling backwards. He hooked his other arm underneath Harry’s knee and picked him up, gently depositing him back on the bed. Draco still had no idea what he was doing, but his appearance didn’t show it. He was just glad Potter had decided to be silent for once, it gave him more time to come up with his own explanation. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Harry cleared his throat.

“What did you mean? When you said I hadn’t had a proper breath in more than a minute?” Harry asked slowly.

“When I walked in, you were having a right fit, thrashing about, and you weren’t breathing.” Harry nodded.

“And how did I end up on the floor?”

“I was going to sit on the edge of your bed, but you literally threw yourself away from me, straight onto the floor. You hit your head first, might want to get that checked out by Pomfrey.” Draco was looking at the floor, following a particular grain back and forth from Potter’s bed to the door. He just shook his head and winced.

“She’ll want to know the story behind it, and I don’t feel like recounting that to her.”

     Oddly, Draco understood. With the war over, and the pieces still scattered in some areas, such trivial things as a bump on the head just weren’t worth the attention.

“Do you want an  _ episky _ for your head?” The question took Harry by surprise. Making cordial conversation was one thing, offering to heal him was another.

“If you don’t mind,” Harry replied quietly, almost shyly. Draco drew his wand and pointed it at the back of Harry’s head before muttering the charm.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry looked up at him questioningly then.

“You’re not going to want an explanation? So you can go tell the whole school about perfect Harry Potter throwing himself off his own sodding bed?” Draco tried to quell the anger forming in his stomach.

“I wouldn’t do that. Not now. After the war, you think anyone would even give a damn? You saved them, that’s all that matters to them. You could have a reputation for kicking baby Crups and they wouldn’t care,” Malfoy said incredulously.

“Do you not remember 5 th year? “The Boy Who Lied?” Ring a bell?”

“That whole denial thing was out of fear, and everyone knows it now.”

     Harry huffed, though he couldn’t deny Malfoy’s point. Neither spoke for a long time, and the silence was almost painfully obvious. 

“My Uncle Vernon,” Harry said finally. 

“What?”

“My Uncle Vernon, that’s why I wasn’t breathing. When I lived with him, he used to get angry at the smallest disturbance, sometimes violent. If it was directed at me, usually was, he’d hit me, or wrap his hands ‘round my throat.” Harry stopped then, his hand coming up to his neck, and shuddered as if having a flashback. His hand didn’t move from around his throat, but he continued speaking. 

“I’ve had the nightmare before, but I’ve never actually stopped breathing while having it. I guess I thought you were him, and that’s why I rushed away.”

     Draco sat down on Harry’s bed in silence, trying to make sense of his explanation. He knew that Potter had lived with his muggle aunt and uncle. Most of the wizarding world did. But most of the wizarding world also assumed that he was doted upon, or at least living in a home he knew he was loved in. If, even on a subconscious level, Potter was trained to flee from him, Draco shuddered at the thought.

“You mean to tell me, Harry Potter, the boy who destroyed the Dark Lord at the age of one and then again at seventeen, couldn’t have even been placed in a non-abusive home?” It sounded tactless, and cold, he knew it did, but he didn’t care about his tone of voice.

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Harry turned away from him, and drew his leg up as if to kick Malfoy off of the bed. Draco frowned.

“That’s not how I meant it. Didn’t anyone know about this? Why didn’t anyone do anything?”

“I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even think it was abnormal. Not until I met Ron’s family. And by then, I was already being prepared for the War.” The two looked at each other, and Draco could tell that there was nothing but honesty behind Harry’s words.

“That would partially explain some of the nightmares. At least ones revolving around them. If you never even told anyone, of course those memories would find some way to manifest.” Draco’s tone was suddenly very reminiscent of Hermione’s when she started explaining some academic concept Harry would never quite grasp.

“Do you have nightmares, then? About things you never told anyone about?” There was no malice in Harry’s voice, just curiosity.

“Yes.” Draco didn’t elaborate further. Potter might have been willing to rattle off every detail about himself, but not Draco. He stood up to return to his own bed.

“Draco?” Harry called. His tone was unsure again, and when Draco looked at him, he had his head down.

“Yes, Potter?” Draco remembered where this went the last time, and tensed.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said as he walked to his own bed. He quickly changed into his pyjamas and climbed in, pulling the curtains shut. It was only then he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part done!   
> I feel like they're more in character here, what about you guys?  
> Veg, Out!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time at Hogwarts, and both boys have decided to stay at the castle.

It happened at least a dozen times in the months leading up to Winter hols. By then, the two had fallen into a routine. When Draco noticed Harry having a nightmare, he would heat up water for tea in a charmed muggle kettle, get out a tea bag and a mug he had transfigured from one of his old textbooks, and then sit on the edge of Harry’s bed. If he didn’t move away, Draco would start rubbing circles into his back or shoulder, or run his hands through the black, unruly hair. After the water was heated, he would use his free hand to steep the tea. He would repeat words similar to the mantra he used the first night until Harry woke up and then hand him his tea. Neither questioned the nature of this arrangement, but they did make idle chat for a few minutes until Harry calmed down enough to try sleeping again. A few nights, neither had been able to fall asleep again, and on those nights, they would move from small talk to actual conversations. They didn’t shy away from talking about the war, and Draco spoke more openly as time went on. Some mornings they would sit together at breakfast, or study together in the library. They didn’t fight, not seriously anyway.

One morning at breakfast, Draco snagged a piece of bacon off Harry’s plate. The serving dish of bacon was just out of Draco’s reach, so he took from Harry’s plate instead.

“Oi! Malfoy, the bacon is right there, leave mine alone,” Harry huffed.

“Can’t reach,” was all Draco said.

“Are you so lazy you won’t even lift your arse up ten centimeters to reach the bloody dish?”

“Yes.”

The way he said it was so short and matter of fact, that it didn’t take long for Harry to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Git,” he said in between laughs, taking Draco’s toast as retribution.

It was the first morning that the other 8th years really saw them interact, and almost all of them had been prepared for the situation to get out of hand as it had in previous years, but it became quickly apparent that the two had formed a friendship in their time as roommates.

Four days before Christmas, Hogwarts was nearly empty. Ron was spending Christmas at the Burrow, Hermione was in Australia working on undoing the memory charms she had placed on her parents, and Dean was spending his Christmas half with his own family, and half with Seamus and his family. Harry had been invited to the Burrow with Ron, but had refused, knowing that their first Christmas without Fred should be spent with just family. Draco had decided to stay as well, not wanting to return to the Manor with all of the bad memories there. So the two of them found themselves closer than usual, having virtually no one else to talk to, and no classes to attend. Harry was nightmare free until Christmas Eve.

_Harry was back at Malfoy Manor with Hermione and Ron bound beside him. Draco-no, Malfoy, was standing in front of him, his expression sharp and cold._   
_”Well, Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?” The cruel voice of Lucius Malfoy could be heard from behind Draco, even though Harry could not see him._

_“It’s him, and that’s the mudblood and blood traitor Weasley, too.” Malfoy’s voice was even, and his tone final. Lucius walked up beside him and clapped a hand on his shoulder._

_“Well done, Draco. The Dark Lord will no doubt reward us for this. I’ll call him.” But he did not lift his sleeve to call Voldemort. Instead, he threw his head back to laugh, but a high, maniacal laugh that Harry knew all too well came from his throat. When he lowered his head again, his face had morphed into the snakelike appearance of Voldemort himself._

_“Kill the spares, Draco.” The blond obediently raised his wand and cast the killing curse at Ron and Hermione in quick succession. Harry flinched and started squirming against his bonds._

_“You’re nothing!” he shouted, though he wasn’t sure at who._

_“Yet it is you preparing to become dust. Avada Kedavra!”_

Harry woke with a scream and sat bolt upright, crashing into Draco’s chest. He pulled away and scooted to the corner of the bed farthest from his roommate, drawing his wand from under his pillow. But this Draco barely resembled the Draco from his nightmare. His face was much more inviting, his jaw not set in a hard, angular line, his eyes filled with concern and maybe a little fear.

“Harry? It was just a dream. Whatever it was, it was just a dream. I made you tea if you want it.” His voice mirrored the mix of concern and fear in his eyes, and Harry lowered his wand in return.

“I’m sorry.” Harry’s voice was hoarse from screaming.

“It was just your reflexes, Harry. It’s alright. Take your tea, your voice sounds like shit.” Harry scoffed, but took the mug nonetheless. Judging from the smell, it was chamomile, and he drank it quickly, hoping it would calm his nerves, and also hoping that his shaking hands would be less of a problem if he drank quickly. His dreams were typically pure memories, but it seemed as if real life was no longer enough nightmare material. After draining the mug, he moved closer to Draco, their shoulders slightly brushing. Harry was still trembling, but his breathing was normal. Draco wrapped an arm around the smaller boy and pulled him into a hug against his chest. Harry’s head found its way into the crook of Draco’s neck, and he tried to relax into the curves of his body, but the tension wouldn’t leave his muscles.

“You know, I was going to wait until tomorrow to give you these, but I think it technically counts as tomorrow,” Draco says, removing his arm and standing up. He rummages in his trunk for a while before pulling out two small boxes. One expanded to about the size of a shoe box, but the other stayed the size of a jewelry box.

“Happy Christmas Harry,” he said, handing the boxes to him. The shoe box was the one that was opened first. It revealed a box of chocolates in a tin with French labeling.

“Because it seems the only chocolate you’ve had was from Honeydukes, and honestly Potter it’s mid-quality at best,” Draco explained, smirking. Harry smiled back, rolling his eyes before unwrapping the second, smaller box. There was a necklace inside, with silver chain and an engraved metal pendant. Harry strained to look at it, but he realized belatedly that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He looked to Draco for help, who now rolled his own eyes.

“It’s the Potter family crest. It wasn’t hard to find, the Potters are a very old wizarding family with a-”

He didn’t finish his sentence, as Harry had flung himself at Draco, wrapping his arms tightly around the blond boy.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

Harry sat up then and went to his trunk to retrieve Draco’s presents. There was one rather lumpy package, one small square package, and one very similar in shape to the necklace box.

“These two are from Molly, this one is from me,” Harry explained sheepishly as Draco began unwrapping the square package. It was homemade fudge, the same kind Harry received at his first Christmas at Hogwarts. The lumpy package was, to no one’s surprise but Draco’s, a Weasley jumper. It was grey, with a big D knitted in Slytherin green.

“Did she knit this herself? For me?” Draco asked, holding it up to his chest.

“She knits jumpers every year. You’ve seen me wearing mine.”

“Yes, but, for me?” His tone was slightly watery, and Harry knew that tears had risen in Draco’s throat.

“I told her about these past few months, and you helping me through the nightmares. I guess this is her way of saying thank you.” Tears were falling freely now, and Draco’s hands were fists in the material.

“Put it on, Draco. It’s soft, not scratchy, I promise.” And he did, smiling widely after pulling it over his head and wiping his cheeks. Harry prodded the last box as a reminder, and Draco unwrapped it slowly. Inside the box was his old wand.

“Harry, you..” he trailed off, looking at the wand fondly.

“Take it out, give it a wave. It’s yours. I was doing a bit of cleaning last week and found it in my trunk. I knew I had to return it. I was wrong to just wrench it out of your hands, it was time it went back to its true owner. Happy Christmas, Draco.” The wand glowed as Draco took it out. He flicked the wand towards the window, and a string of lights suddenly lined the dark glass. The lights illuminated the look of pure elation on Draco’s face.

“You have no idea how good it feels. Thank you” Tears were falling again, and this time, it was Draco launching himself at Harry for a hug. Harry stumbled back to sit on the bed, a mop of blond hair tickling his neck.

“You’re welcome.” Harry yawned. Apparently, the chamomile tea was kicking in. Draco straightened, but didn’t move off the bed.

“Draco?” He knew where this was going.

“Will you stay?” Draco kicked his slippers off.

“I guess. Too lazy to get up when there’s a bed right here, y’know.” Harry playfully shoved him in the chest, and he fell onto his back.

“Git,” he mumbled as he drew the blankets around them both and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I can't finish a chapter unless it's super late. This is un beta'd. Let me know if you have suggestions in the comments, if you liked it, if you have a question, whatever.  
> Veg, Out!

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Drarry, what do you think?  
> Also, it's almost 2 AM right now where I live, so this might be complete and total shit.  
> Leave any suggestions in the comments, I love feedback  
> Veg, Out!


End file.
